How to Save a Life: The Course of True Love Never did Run Smooth
by skyetrades
Summary: Francis is a college student in theatre who meets an exchange student named Arthur. Arthur is a bit of a hothead but Francis can get around it. Him and Arthur along with their friends Alfred and Matthew get through college together, cracking jokes, getting drunk, and going to parties. With a play and duets, they always have some way to keep things interesting. And then summer comes
1. Prologue

**(Preview)**

My brain was pounding on my skull. My bloodshot eyes burned as salty tears soaked my cheeks. My stomach twisted from the thought that I was missing something. Something important. I felt like I was gonna throw up, like I needed to escape. Tension filled the room like distraught fumes. I couldn't think, I couldn't calm, I couldn't relax. I was hungry with the burning passion of something my mind could not comprehend. I needed something, I needed it; I needed him. I shivered at the thought, a chill down my aching spine. My head hurt so bad and every passerby that accidentally had their shoulders brush against me felt like my weak body was breaking. Their ingenuine apologies felt like a confession of love. I was broken, weak, and sensitive. I couldn't leave it like this; I needed to fix this.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Life had been good to me. I was born into a rich family in beautiful Paris, fully educated, and blessed with my gifts, health, and looks. I was living alone now, but I didn't mind, I barely stayed in my apartment anyway. I was out, hanging out on campus with a few friends. I took my bird, Pierre, pretty much everywhere with me. He sat on my shoulder, trying to appear more like I was his ride rather him being my accessory. He was much like me. I was heading to drama, one of my many art lectures. My teachers allowed Pierre as he was quiet and collected. He made me look good. I had added a few braids to my regular casual ponytail. It was tied back with a silky lapis ribbon. My blouse was only the best, as usual, lined at the hem with lace and buttons made of gold. My tight khakis were designed perfectly for my body shape. My fancy boots lifted me a few inches off the ground although I was already quite tall. The reason for this was the beginning of spring. Rosemary, roses, lavender, lilies, and irises vibrantly dotted the scenery. The stone walls of the theatre building were lined with viciously growing wisteria. It was becoming a big problem but it was just too pretty to kill. I admired its ambition to grow, to expand its courageous vines, curious, and yet so beautiful through all of it. I sang to myself in French as I blithely strutted to my lecture.

"_Des yeux qui font baisser les miens_

_Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche_

_Voilà le portrait sans retouches_

_De l'homme auquel j'appartiens…"_

I crooned softly to myself. I've heard the song so many times. I knew it by heart: _La Vie en Rose._ Sometimes Pierre would sing along. The flower-filled winding pathways were more home to me than anything else in the world, or so I thought. The soft breeze swam through my free locks. I approached the Dalbergia doors, delight lifting my chest. The sounds of Charles Baudelaire and Guillaume Apollinaire's poems filled the air as I opened the heavy double doors. I personally prefer Arthur Rimbaud and, since I had been learning English, Shakespeare. It was quite hard to learn, as the English themselves had trouble understanding it. But I was determined. I let Pierre perch on my finger before mounting him on the crown of my head. He tweeted in satisfaction, getting a better look at the crowd. My fellow peers recited their lines. We were not currently in a play, but ready to audition for whatever daring roll was waiting for them. I had no specific person I talked to, I just alternated between people. I knew everyone's lines and what part would fit them best. I had played a roll in all their inside jokes and gone out for drinks with all of them. I've been to parties and trips, spending nearly every day with them. They trusted me and I enjoyed their company, but I never felt anything too special for each of them. As I removed my coat and placed down my bag I noticed something: something new. A young man was standing there, wearing a neat sweater with a freshly ironed button up underneath it. His slacks overlapped his clean, smoothly shine barkers. He crossed his arms condescendingly as he furrowed his bushy eyebrows. Blonde brushed hair grazed over his deeply emerald eyes. He was not from here, I could tell. I stroked the hair on my chin quizzically as I studied the strange man. I decided to approach him, not realising how it would affect the world I thought I had control of. "Salut, mon ami! Je m'appelle Francis, h-"

"What the bloody hell are you saying? I swear, does no one speak English around here?!" he angrily let his hands roughly fall to his side, his shoulders tense as I made my appearance beyond the pews.

"Excuses, monsieur, my name is Francis, what brings you here on this beautiful spring morning?" I chuckled, observing the strange, almost adorable way his face scrunched up.

"I'm an exchange student from England if you haven't noticed." his arms softly crossed once again. I flashed him a tiny smile, eyebrows raised.

"Honhon, believe me, mon ami, I noticed." I snickered quietly. The Englishman pursed his lips at my comment.

"What is that supposed to mean?!" he stomped his foot.

"Nothing, nothing, excuses, mon ami." I beamed softly while I jokingly put my hands up to prove my innocence. He huffed and looked away at the stage. "Would you like me to show you around?" I offered. He sighed in reply.

"Sure, because it'll stop the future pestering you'd do about it if I say no, which I know you'll do." he didn't look at me and just glared up left at the ceiling light.

"Mais oui, monsieur." I did a little bow, making him scoff. I smirked up at him, wiggling my nose to let him know that there's no reason to get angry. I grasped his forearm and pulled him across the room where my professor sat, preparing himself for class.

"What the hell are you doing?! Get your bloody hands off me!" the Englishman shouted at me frustratedly.

"Professeur, puis-je montrer le nouveau gamin?"

"Oui, Francis, être rapide." my professor didn't look up from the scripts, adjusting his glasses. I flashed the Englishman a daring glance before continuing to drag him through the pews in a beeline. My professor sighed. "S'il vous plait! Francis, faites attention!"

"Je vais!" I yelled back.

"I can't understand a single word you're saying! You are speaking to an Englishman! You hear that? _English_man!" the exchange student stated firmly.

"Excuses, mon ami… encore, follow me!"

"You cheeky, bonkers wazzock," he whispered to himself, loud enough to know he wanted me to hear it. I slowed my pace as we entered the hallway.

"You know, your language is weird as well, monsieur." I chuckled. He continued to grumble. My pace dropped to a steady stroll, my hand slipping from his forearm. My fingers brushed against his palm and he flinched away, wiping his hand on his sweater. "So, what brings you to France?"

"A Shakespearean project I heard you chaps were working on."

"Honhon, we haven't quite started that yet, auditions are soon, next week I believe. You should join us!"

"Well, I… I never! Hmm…" he murmured to himself. "What play are you performing? I say if it's Romeo and Juliet again I'll be absolutely miffed!" his steps became heavier.

"Bon, ben, monsieur, I'll pray you'll get your way." I glimpsed at him with a tiny grin. "What would you like to perform, or, do I say, what is your favourite Shakespearean play?"

"The Tempest…" he mumbled.

"But of course! I should've guessed, mon ami! My favourite is Love's Labour Lost; it's just a perfect mix of love and loss, wouldn't you say, monsieur?" I hadn't even realised that I had been making gestures to my words this entire time. It didn't seem to matter as the Englishman's eyes were fixed on Pierre.

"How did I not notice you have a bleeding fowl on your head? You little Frenchies will never cease to surprise me." he shook his head in disapproval. Pierre was not impressed and chirped quietly as if to whisper forbidden words under his breath. I reached for him to jump on my finger, craning him towards the Englishman. The exchange student winced as I brought my aviating companion in his direction.

"No need to worry, mon ami, he doesn't bite. But I warn you, he judges." I winked with a smirk. The Englishman rolled his eyes and scoffed. "His name is Pierre, I'm sure he'll get used to you… you… mon, mon, I don't believe I caught your name, no?" I patted Pierre's soft white feathers.

"Well, it's Arthur." he hesitated without breaking his staring contest with Pierre.

"Oh! Like the poet! Arthur Rimbaud!" I bounced in excitement.

"Yes, quite, now can we please continue the tour?" he crossed his arms once again, breaking his gaze with Pierre. I patted him on the back as Pierre flew back up on top of my head.

"Honhon, you are quite demanding and impatient there, mon ami, relax a bit."

"Hands off me you frog!" he lightly hit my hand away. I brushed my hair back with a graceful whip, presenting a big, toothy smile.

"I don't think you understood the guidelines to pet names, honhonhon." I guffawed. Arthur squinted at me disapprovingly. "Bien, this is the dressing room, over there are the bathrooms, and here's the rehearsal room." I opened the wide metal door to reveal a cold, empty stone room. There were several chairs lined up at the end room. The lights on the ceiling hung heavily with the one in the corner that was always flickering. A few costumes and props were scattered on the edges, one door in the back barricaded with rucksacks. "The high school often uses this building, excuses for the mess, monsieur." my voice echoed off the walls. Arthur's monotone sweater seemed a lot more saturated compared to the dullness of the room. The carefully knitted sage wool matched perfectly with his periwinkle button up. All he needed were a few real periwinkles in his silky light locks. "I like your sweater monsieur."

"I hope so, it cost a bomb." he held his chin high, making it easier for me to admire him. His stance was very strong and confident. If admiring him was what he wanted, then admiring him is what he'll get. I stared at him for a bit longer, seeing he'd notice. He continued to banter as I got lost in the lush, wild fields in his eyes. It was a very pretty green; it matched his sweater.

"You're very handsome." I blurted unconsciously. He paused, completely shocked. His face burned red, coloring his cheeks like roses.

"Well, I…" he continued to stare, Pierre edging farther off my shoulder to see the expression on my face. Arthur cleared his throat and relaxed as if he was trying to make himself believe it was a casual comment. "You damned Frenchies,"

We finished the tour, returning back to the auditorium. Class was just about to start; we were just in time. I sat in the pews and offered Arthur to sit next to me. He sighed and shook his head, still taking the seat anyway. My professor walked on stage awkwardly, dropping his papers once.

"Euh… countinuez votre- attendre, we have some new English speakers in here. Are both present?" he looked at Arthur and around the room. He was about to write something down before the auditorium doors slammed open,

"Sorry, dudes! I got totally lost in traffic; you crazies drive on the wrong side of the road!" An obviously American man shouted as he entered. His hair was a bit darker than Arthur's, but still blonde, with a floating rouge strand standing up on the top of his head. His sapphire eyes confusingly glared through his rectangular glasses. He was taller than Arthur and I, but his bright attitude was enough to keep him from being intimidating.

"That's Alfred, my… friend." Arthur claimed slowly as if not wanting to admit he knew him. Alfred squeezed in next to him, his brown leather jacket squeaking against the armrests of his seat. To refrain from staring, I studied the posters on the wall across the room. Just the same old inspiring quotes and famous historical playwrights as usual. The chatting continued as I blanked out, exhaling deeply as I relaxed.

"Looks like you got comfortable fast, who's the chick?" Alfred nudged Arthur.

"Sacrebleu! I am not a chick!" I shouted back. He stared at me for a second in disbelief.

"Oh, sorry man, I didn't mean to, uh, make assumptions." he scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. I sighed and chuckled to myself.

"Excuses acceptées." I closed my eyes and bowed my head slightly.

"Alright everyone, just… just practice your monologues." my professor then walked off the stage. I turned to Arthur and Alfred.

"May I help you find a monologue, mon amis?" I offered politely. Alfred bounced in his seat.

"Of course!" he grabbed Arthur's arm in excitement. "I'm talking to a French person!" he whispered loudly.

"Would you stop acting like a ninnie for one bloody second in your entire life and actually act like a normal, decent human?" Arthur violently snatched his collar.

"I say, my American friend, you should try one of Nick Bottom's lines from A Midsummer Night's Dream." I suggested to Alfred. Alfred's eyes lit up as Arthur tried to stifle a little laugh.

"Is he the hero?" he sat up straight, gripping the seat handles tightly. Arthur couldn't help but chuckle out loud.

"I believe my friend here has just called you an ass." he patted my shoulder. I almost felt delighted.

"Hey! That was cruel!" Alfred crossed his arms and slouched in his seat.

"Well, he plays the protagonist in the play he performs for the Athen's wedding," I explained. His big smile returned.

"Whoa! A play within a play? That's trippy!"

"And you, my English friend, you shall play-"

"I will choose my own monologue, thank you very much." Arthur peered in the opposite direction. I noticed he did that a lot. He was bad with holding eye contact. His eyes were like the south pole and he can't seem to find the north.

"But of course, excuses."

"Why do you keep saying that? Excusie?"

"Well, that was not the intention. Excuses means apologies." I informed him. He stared at me blankly for a second before trying to hold back a smile. Alfred didn't seem let anything hold him back, not even common sense.

"Haha! That's golden! Imagine someone was like 'Hey dude, that was kind of offensive' and you replied 'Excuse, excuses' haha!" Alfred slapped his knee in his laughing fit. I gawked at him, slack-jawed in awe. Arthur elbowed him in the gut.

"See, Alfred, you're an idiot. Can't you see that-"

"Sacrebleu, you're right…" I interrupted.

"WHAT?!"

"Hey, dude, I love your cute bird thing." Alfred pointed to Pierre.

"Merci, I love him too." I softly stroked his smooth little feathers. "Say, what other courses do you two have?"

"Well, I wanted to join the football team, turns out it was just soccer, what a rip! Then I took woodworking and programming. Computers are actually really boring. And I guess the rest I can remember is just more boring stuff, but you know what? I didn't even wanna go to college anyway! I wanted to join the military! But here I am, an exchange student at a college in Paris. Well, at least now I look all smart and stuff and-"

"Please, would you just shut your damn mouth for one second!" Arthur growled. He put his head in his hands, rubbing his temples. "At least you're not as bad as that Italian though." he pulled on his hair.

"Bon, ben, monsieur, what about your classes?" I patted his back, relieved that he didn't swat my hand away… immediately at least.

"Well, I joined choir, band, children's media, and literary arts. Shame it's all in French though."

"Incroyable! We have all the same classes, except for children's media. I went for, what you'd say, a more adult-ish form of media."

"Dude, you draw porn for homework?!" Alfred gasped.

"Well, when you put it that way it sounds wrong." I ran my fingers through my hair as I laid back in my seat. "And lately…" I looked at Arthur with a smirk. "I've lost my inspiration, perhaps you-"

"Shut your mouth, you wanker!" he turned away hastily. I snickered then ruffled his hair.

"I kid, I kid, honhonhon." I beamed. "Well, what I was going to say before was you can visit for the answers if you have questions with your classes. I live right outside campus in a stone house with purple shutters."

"Noted." he turned to the stage to see a few students reciting their lines. I stood up and searched through my bag.

"Bon, ben…" I pulled out my monologue. "Au revoir, I should join, good luck mon amis." I waved to them, Alfred too busy on his phone to notice. I began to leave when I felt something latch onto my blouse sleeve. "Euh?" I turned around.

"Wait, I forgot to, um," Arthur glared sheepishly at the floor. "I forgot to thank you, you know, for the tour and warm welcome; I appreciate it." his face flushed red, his ears burning.

"Aucun probléme, monsieur." I smiled brightly. He let go of me and rubbed his arm awkwardly.

"What?" Alfred mumbled, a face full of potato chips he just happened to have. Arthur groaned.

"That bastard,"

That night, I found myself staying up past 0:00 am. I was busy writing; writing something down like my life depended on it. I didn't know what I was doing, I just did what seemed right. Soon enough, I had five pages, from back to front, filled to the brim with description. I read through it again, now knowing exactly what I had done. I tore the pages neatly out of my notebook, stapling them together and placing them in my closet.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The next day, I knew what Arthur was talking about when he mentioned that Italian. I bumped into him on my break in which he immediately pulled out a white flag, that he just happened to have, in response.

"Don't hurt me, don't hurt me! See? I don't want any trouble! White flag! I surrender, I surrender!" he cried out. _Oh, my, how adorable! _I thought.

"Petit homme, are you lost? I won't hurt you." I sent him a warm smile.

"I'm not lost, actually, I may be lost, but I lost Ludwig! I'm going to die here! Help me! Help me!"

"Calmez-vous, I'll help you, who is Ludwig?" I leaned down at him.

"He's this big, scary looking German, but he's actually very nice when he's not yelling at me. He's tall, blonde, and handsome, you know anyone like that?" he glared up at me hopefully.

"Those few last words, yes, honhonhon," I winked at him and he flinched. "but German, I'm sorry, I believe-"

"There you are you imbecile!" a tall, built, blonde man shouted in a strong German accent.

"LUDWIG!" the little Italian cheered, leaping into the man's arms. "I was so scared! Could've died out here or met an angry squirrel which is the last thing I want. Do you know how violent they can get? I'm pretty sure I read somewhere that a squirrel once killed a man! That would be horrible! Plus, you've never warned me about them because you can't even say squirrel! Oh, please never leave me alone again!" He continued to cry.

"Oh, get over yourself, Feliciano." Ludwig patted him on the back. He noticed me standing there and I politely waved. "Apologies for the inconvenience."

"Oh, there was no problem here, he's actually really cute! Euh, mon, what a sweet boy, he seems to like you a lot." A silly little smile curled across my cheeks.

"Em…" Ludwig stared at me for a second, all the blood draining from his face. "Maybe." And he sauntered off, Feliciano still attached to him.

"Oh, how darling is that! Oh, oui, oui!" I rambled to myself. Then it occurred to me, when was my last love? I was so used to always being in a relationship I didn't even realise I was single. It couldn't have bothered me too much or I would've been destroyed. I sat down and recalled my last lovers. I noticed that my past few partners I had been with through mere loneliness, not love. This was not like me. I stood up and shook it off. I had so many pauses like this so often, so I brushed it off. I noticed Alfred across from the fountain, sitting at one of the perforated picnic tables, eating a disturbingly large hamburger. Arthur was nowhere in sight. Shrugging, I decided to sit with the American.

"Hey, Francy Pants, you're people are so flirty! And it's much more crazy colorful than I thought. I always imagined it in black, white, and red."

"Quoi? What do you mean?" I asked as I settled in beside him.

"Yeah, every french movie I've seen it's in black and white. But stuff like girls lips or a rose will be red." Alfred explained. He passed me some butterscotch bourbon. I didn't like the stuff that much but it was better than nothing.

"I guess you're right, we do love doing that, honhonhon." I took a sip from the bottle. "So where is Arthur?"

"Trying to get his homework done. What a nerd, am I right?" He snorted. I chuckled and shook my head.

"Mon ami, you should come to our bars at some point. Maybe we could bring Arthur along as well."

"Haha! You gotta be crazy! He's like the worst drunk ever!" He cackled.

"Honhon, I see, I'll take your word for it, monsieur." I sat back and took another drink from the bourbon. "So this Shakespeare thing is really important, no?"

"Seems like it. Me, Arthur, my brother, and some other exchange students were invited to come and see it. They even encouraged us to audition! Seriously, what's so great about Shakespeare anyway?"

"Don't ask me, mon ami." I rested my elbow on the table and laid my cheek on my fist. Across the courtyard, a man in an unwrinkled vest and beige khakis began walking towards us. "Bonjour, monsieur!" I waved to him. He looked up, his eyes meeting mine.

"Oh, Francis, just the person I wanted to see." He looked to the side as he spoke.

"Mon, mon, really?" my lips couldn't help but curl into a smile. Arthur cleared his throat, reaching into his bag. He raised a finger to signal me to wait a second.

"I need a little help understanding my homework, if you don't, um, if you don't mind." He never made eye contact when talking. I stood up and walked beside him.

"Mais oui! Come meet me tonight!" I put a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait, what, why not now?" He jolted away from my grasp.

"Why would you want to waste such a beautiful day!" I swung my arms up in delight. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Well, I'm sorry for not being all sunshine and rainbows but maybe we shouldn't wait till night to work on a weekday." He sat down across from Alfred, placing down his items. I returned to my seat as well.

"Oh, a few drinks and we won't care." I shook around the bourbon.

"Who said I was drinking?" He crossed his arms. Alfred threw his burger wrapper at him and burped.

"Ah, come on dude, loosen up a bit." He beamed. Arthur growled furiously, picking up the wrapper and throwing it away.

"Repulsive…" he mumbled to himself. I patted Alfred on the back, opening my mouth to say something but was swiftly interrupted by Arthur. "Loosen up a bit, eh? That explains a lot. Did your dignity and intelligence get loose in the process?" He raised his bushy eyebrows slyly.

"Alright, smartass, you're coming with us to one of those French bars this weekend whether you like it or not!" Alfred slammed his fist on the table.

"I will do no such thing!"

"Don't care, I'll bag you if I have to."

"This sounds an awful lot like a kidnapping."

"No, mon ami," I smirked at him. "It's just a nonconsensual hangout." I winked cheekily. Arthur scoffed.

"Fine, but I won't enjoy it."

I was on my way home when I ran into some unfamiliar faces. One was much taller than me with platinum blonde hair and the other much shorter, with a dark brown ponytail. The tall one flashed me a small innocent smile from above his scarf as the short one grumbled to himself.

"You wouldn't happen to know where the dormitories are?" He asked, sounding as if I were not the first person they asked. I didn't stay in the dorms. I didn't like them. They were gross and full of frat boys. I'll pass. I lived outside of the campus, but I lived along the gates. But even though I did like the dorms, I knew where they were.

"Oui, follow me," I said blankly, changing my direction.

"Oh, thank goodness you speak a language I know." The short man sighed in relief. "I'm Yao, by the way, and this is Ivan."

"Helło," The tall man waved softly with closed, inviting eyes.

"Don't be fooled by his innocence. He can tear you apart faster than a piranha if you so much as look at him wrong." Yao warned me quietly.

"Bon, ben, nice to meet you two, je m'appelle Francis." I bowed slightly as I continued to lead them to the dormitories. "So, you two related?" I asked, clearly aware that they looked nothing alike.

"No way! I wouldn't last a day being related to this buffoon!" Yao stomped. Ivan chuckled, putting his hands up.

"Let's not name call, shall we, comrade?" He replied. I giggled to myself. Yao crossed his arms, looking away from Ivan.

"We were just assigned to the same dorm, nothing more, nothing less." He stated firmly.

"I see," I grinned, taking a second to focus on the now setting sun. Brackish warm colour painted the sky, stars swimming beneath the aviating depths. The clouds floated carelessly among the birds' shadows, unaware that they were one of Yahweh's masterpieces. The withdrawn moon tried to blend in with the reckless hues of the celestial sphere. I was lost in my thoughts, losing my focus on Yao and Ivan. As I was about to travel to a new neurological fantasia, I realised that I was being called for.

"Hello! Earth to Francis, do you know where you're going?!" Yao waved his hand in my face. I snapped back to reality.

"Oh, mais oui, pas de soucis." I reassured them. I realised that I was actually facing the wrong direction. I continued that way for a bit so it wasn't obvious. "So, where are you two from?"

"I'm from China, the best country in the world." Yao declared.

"I thought that was Amer-"

"IT'S CHINA!" he stomped his foot. I chuckled and put my hands up.

"I am from mother Russia, we will dethrone all countries in near future, da?" Ivan said. We all fell silent. The dormitories slowly came into sight.

"Which number do you guys have?" I used my hand to shield my eyes from the blazing setting sun.

"531," Yao replied, fixing his ponytail.

"Oh, so you guys are to the far right." I pointed to the building at the end of the road.

"Xièxiè, my friend, come on, Ivan." Yao grabbed his arm and began dragging him to their dorm. It was about my time to return home, especially with a visitor coming.

The sky was nearly pitch black by the time I returned home. There he was, standing on the front porch. He looked at his watch and sighed.

"Salut, mon ami!" I greeted him.

"It's about time, I've been waiting here for way longer than I should've." he stared sternly under the moonlight.

"What do you mean? I told you to be here at seven, did I not?"

"It's eight." he groaned, clenching his fists slightly. I gasped, grabbing his hand to check his watch.

"Sacrebleu! Wow, the days really are getting longer!" I exclaimed. Arthur hesitantly yanked his wrist away. He crossed his arms and impatiently tapped his foot as I contemplated daylight savings time.

"Well, are you going to let me in or not?" he arched his eyebrows.

"Euh, excuses, monsieur." I unlocked the door and ushered him inside. My house was filled with mostly white, beige, blue, and purple, with an occasional red and gold. There were dozens of silver frames, holding the memories from my photography stage. The entryway led to my living room/kitchen/dining room. I was a college, what did you expect, a five-star apartment? Arthur appeared to be baffled.

"Is this really yours?" he puzzled. I closed the door behind him, taking off my coat and throwing my bag on the couch.

"But of course, you think I took you to some random house? Honhonhon, surprise, you've actually joined me in my robbery." I ruffled his hair.

"I would've believed you if you didn't have the keys." he hesitated to place his items on my granite island. "How did you afford this place? Do you have a job?" He halted himself from sitting on the leather bar seat.

"I work with my family over the summer with their businesses. They do fashion design and all that sort." I sat beside the place he was standing, letting him know that the bar seats were safe. As he settled next to me, he searched through his folder, pulling out a couple of pages of homework. I searched through them. "What do you need help with?"

"I don't know, I couldn't understand a word my professors said and I can't even read my homework." He explained, throwing his arms in the air. I curled my hair with my finger as I pondered the situation.

"I don't think your homework is what you need help with, monsieur, it's your Françias." I chuckled. He sighed and nodded.

"Yes, too bad they don't have French class in France." he murmured, I scooted around 90° to face him.

"Allow me to help; open a blank page in your notebook." I hopped off the bar seat. He groaned but obeyed. I snatched a marker from the top of the fridge and used the refrigerator door as a whiteboard. "Let's start off with a few basic phrases. To greet someone, you say 'salut' or 'bonjour'." I wrote that down and Arthur copied it. I made sure my curly letters were clear enough to understand. It was hard for me to not slip into cursive. "'Bonne Nuit' means goodnight and 'Au revoir' means goodbye." I felt very professional doing this, teaching someone a new language and all. Arthur rubbed his temples, now contemplating the frame of French. "Please is 'S'il vous plait' and thank you is 'Je vous remercie' or 'Merci' if it's less formal." I put a strong period at the end of that. I got very excited all of the sudden. There was so much I could teach him. So many hours I could spend with the fridge door, the dry erase marker, my voice breaking the empty silence, and him, Arthur, listening to my every word and watching my every move. This usually uncomfortable attention made my nerves calm. "I'm sorry is 'Pardon' and you're welcome is 'De rien'."

"Wow, this is easy, I'll be speaking fluent French in no time!" Arthur declared. I chuckled, he doesn't know anything yet. I cleared my throat and continued.

"The preposition 'de' can be used to signify possession, direction, relation, and coordination."

In choir today, I was stopped by the smarty pants, Roderich.

"No, you're not doing it right, let me help," he told for the billionth time. I got pretty angry, especially by the fact that his teachings were, in fact, helpful and useful. Though it was he was bossy, he meant well, he just had a lot of intelligence he wanted to share with everybody else. I nodded as he spoke, trying to take his advice. We were singing our warm-up song, 'A la Claire Fontaine', an old French folk song. I wasn't actually quite sure why I joined this class, I guess it just sounded fun with all the trips they went on. But it was alright, to say the least. Arthur was across the room, but I could hear him. I wondered what happened to his accent when he sang, but he had a pretty voice anyway. He also didn't have the best pronunciation, which made it hard to keep a straight face while singing. As we were packing up to leave, Roderich stopped me.

"Excuse me, Francis?" he asked, standing over me. I looked up from my shoelaces and nodded for him to continue. "You did great today." he smiled. For some reason, I found that hard to believe with all that correcting he did.

"And..?" I raised an eyebrow, stood up straight, and crossed my arms.

"Well, there's a project coming up and it includes duets," he began. My eyes widened; I didn't know this. He was always one step ahead.

"Oh, bon, ben, I know who's gonna be my partner," I chuckled. Roderich grinned. "Arthur."

"Me."

"What?"

"What?" he stared at me, confused. "Wait, who's Arthur?"

"Euh, he's a new friend of mine, one of the exchange students," I explained awkwardly. He glared at me as if I had betrayed him. We had known each other for a long time; he basically raised me. I sighed, dragging my palm down my face. "But maybe we could still be partners."

"Good, because I already chose the song and our parts." he packed up as spoke.

"Wait, do I get a say in this?" I tilted my head, packing up as well.

"You said we could be partners, did you not?" he stood up with his perfect, almost intimidating posture. I grumbled.

"I…" I exhaled, relinquishing. "Yes, I did, what's our song?" I found Arthur staring before he left the room. He looked concerned and confused.

"J'ai encore rêvé d'elle, I shall take on the male's part," he claimed.

"W-ha-" I was about to blow up. "Fine," I replied blankly. I snatched my bag roughly and left the lecture. "Just send me a schedule of our practices." I breathed deeply to calm myself.

I felt relieved seeing Arthur at break time. He was shouting at Alfred for some reason.

"Stop playing your music out loud!" he yelled at him with furrowed brows.

"Come on man, you know you love it!" Alfred guffawed in return. I sat with them, their attention drawn to me. Alfred quickly searched through his playlist whilst Arthur complained.

"Francis, can you tell this imbecile to get some headphones," Arthur growled. Even if he was angry, it was comforting to hear his voice. Alfred waved his earbuds in Arthur's face.

"I have them, doesn't mean I'm gonna use them!" he mocked. He turned to me enthusiastically. "Hey, dude, you're gonna totally love my music! Check this out!" he clicked on a song, a soft guitar playing a second after. Alfred sang along the moment the lyrics began. "Almost heaven, WEST VIRGINIA!" Arthur pulled his hair in annoyance.

"You've already played this song ten thousand times!" he snarled. Alfred just ignored him and kept singing. I wasn't too big on country music, but I had to admit, it was a pretty song. The chorus was coming, I could tell by the he was hyping up.

"Country roads! Take me home! To the place, I belong! WEST VIRGINIA!" he banged his fist on the table. Arthur clenched his ears. I just chuckled, but I could see how it could get annoying.

"For the love of the queen, please play a different song!" Arthur snapped.

"Fine, I'll show you another song, this is Chattahoochee."

"No! No, no more country music!" Arthur tore Alfred's phone out of his hands. "Here, since I know you like rock, I'll show you Photograph."

"By NickelBack?" I joined in.

"No! NickelBack is American you idiot!" Arthur replied firmly.

"Actually, NickelBack is Canadian." a soft, unfamiliar voice spoke. There was another student standing beside us and I hadn't even realised it. He had longish blonde hair with a stray curl and glasses. He was holding a polar teddy bear in which Pierre chirped irritatedly at. I just exchanged awkward glances, seeing if anyone knew him.

"Excuses, but euh, who are you?" I asked apologetically. He sighed, still managing to keep his warm smile.

"I'm Matthew, Alfred's brother." he introduced himself.

"Hey, bro! Have a seat, we're listening to each other's music!" Alfred gestured to the open spot next to me. He sheepishly settled beside me, trying to respect my boundaries. Arthur coughed to get our attention.

"Yes, quite, now back to me, now Photograph, h-"

"Is it the Ed Sheeran one? Cause back in my country, people love it!" Alfred exclaimed, but, yet again, what does he not say that's extremely loud.

"Ed Sheeran is not rock! I'm talking about Def Leppard!" Arthur blurted out. There was a short, uncomfortable silence.

"Wait, I thought they were American." I puzzled.

"Why must everyone think that anything in the English language is from America!" Arthur dropped his head on the patterned metal and rubber table. Matthew reached across and patted him on the back.

"Now you know how I feel." he consoled him. Without lifting his head, Arthur pressed play. It was actually a pretty sweet song, even though rock was not quite my genre. It didn't seem like Arthur's either, but Alfred was sure enjoying it. He headbanged along, lip syncing all the lyrics while making gestures. Matthew just quietly tapped his foot to the beat. Arthur eventually lifted his head after the chorus, brushing his perfectly unstained button up off.

"Hey, Matt, wanna go to the bar with us tonight?" Alfred invited him, still dancing to the music. Matthew paused, staring at him for a second to see if he'd break into a laugh. I placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Oui, join us!" I added. Matthew blushed and squeezed his stuffed bear.

"Sure, thanks guys." he beamed. Arthur turned off his music and agreed silently, feeling that there was that needed to be said. Alfred searched his playlist again, looking frustrated. I peeked over at his phone.

"Hey, what about that song?" I pointed to a track by a band called _The Fray._

"Oh, How to Save a Life? That's just a lame love song thingy or something." he scrolled away from it. Now that was my genre.

"Can I please listen to it? S'il vous plait?" I flashed him my cobalt persuasive eye. He rolled his own.

"If you insist," he mumbled, scrolling back up to find it. He pressed play and tossed his phone on the table. Arthur listened up as well, resting his chin on his fist. He knew this song. He loved his song. I could tell by the way the corners of his lips twitched when the lead singer began to sing. It was beautiful, a ballad unlike any other that I'd heard before. Arthur began to softly sing the lyrics.

"Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend, somewhere along the bitterness…" he relaxed his shoulders and continued to hum along. He was exquisite. A sight I could only picture in my dreams. Once I got the hang of the tune, I hummed along as well, hoping to get something out of Arthur. We made eye contact, something we never did. His fair cheeks became pigmented with red as I glared dreamily with a smirky smile and relaxed eyes. He looked away immediately, as to be expected.

"What? It's a good song!" he crossed his arms as his face continually got redder.

"I wasn't blaming you for anything, monsieur." I reached for his hand and pulled it towards me. Arthur's eyes were as wide as the waxing moon as he gawked at my grip. He was terrified. I knew it, but it was cute. Matthew scooted away slightly, giggling to himself. Alfred was trying his hardest to hold back a smile. "Has anyone told you that you have the most incroyable eyes?" I leaned closer. Arthur's burning face began to sweat as he hesitantly pulled away.

"I… I have to use the restroom." he stormed off in a bashful mess. The song ended and we were left in silence. When Arthur was out of earshot, Alfred gasped.

"Dude, I totally ship you guys!" he slammed his hands down.

"Alfred, don't be rude!" Matthew softly snapped.

"Francis and Arthur, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P- wait." Alfred jumped in his seat and made a face. Matthew grumbled but he knew he couldn't stop him.

"You guys actually would make a cute couple though," he mumbled. I just chuckled.

"Oh, come on guys, this isn't middle school." I snorted, a few giggles not leaving my throat.

"Yeah, Al, be mature." Matthew kicked Alfred from under the table.

"Well, I best be leaving, I've got another lecture, excuses, au revoir." I waved as I gathered my books and headed to class.

I still hadn't got any ideas for my painting. I sat there on my stool, staring at my canvas for what felt like hours. Kiku, one of the exchange students who was very amazing at drawing anime, peeked over at my whole lot of nothing. He stepped beside me.

"Do you need any help?" he asked. I exhaled and dropped my arms.

"Maybe," I groaned.

"What is something you love? Now, you don't have to say it out loud. Then, think of another thing you love. How would those two react together? Draw that feeling." Kiku explained. I stared in disbelief. "It's just a suggestion."

"No, it's great, thank you for your help. Merci, merci!" I beamed. He bowed slightly and returned to his work. He was very intelligent and always had a plan for everything. He was cool. I faced my blank canvas once again. I picked up my pencil and began to draw the outline.

**btw thank tumblr person for the kississpi joke**


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

That night, after having a quick chat with Yao and Ivan, I left Pierre at home and Alfred picked me up in his car. He and Matthew sat in the front while Arthur and I sat in the back. He was silent, his ears as red as roses. He was probably still caught up on what happened earlier today. A few drinks and he'll be fine.

"Do you know where you're going?" I asked Alfred.

"Yeah, of course, I've got a GPS! I'll be fine!" he replied.

"Tourner à droite au bout de la route." his GPS spoke. He went silent. He picked up his phone to see if he heard wrong.

"What was that?"

"Tourner à droite au bout de la route." it repeated. I was about to pitch in and help when Matthew stepped up.

"It said 'Turn right at the end of the road'," he informed us.

"Whoa, I didn't know you knew Spanish, Matty." Alfred gasped. I raised an eyebrow a bit in confusion.

"It's French, you ninnie! We are in France! That's why your satnav is speaking that way!" Arthur growled.

"First of all, we are talking about a GPS, not a satellite-naval-device-thingy, second, that makes sense. I didn't hear one hola or despacito in that." Alfred chuckled. Arthur slumped in his seat. "Maybe I should turn off the location so it stops thinking I know French."

"You… want to turn off… the location… on your satnav." Arthur gaped before slumping down. "Tell me again why we let him drive." he murmured to himself. I leaned over the seat to Matthew.

"So, tell me where you learned French." I rested my chin on the back of his seat.

"I live near Quebec. They speak a lot of French there," he answered. "So, I guess I'm French-Canadian."

"So if you're Canadian, and your brother is American, how are you two related?"

"Actually, it's a funny a story, I-" Alfred was interrupted by the GPS to turn left at an intersection. I turned back to Arthur. He had his earbuds in, staring out the window.

"You alright there, mon ami?" I asked him. He didn't turn his head but his eyes shot in my direction. He nodded and turned away once again, settling himself more into the car door. "Whatcha listening too?" He sat up, pulling out his earbuds.

"Nothing, Mr. Nosey." he mocked. I chortled in response.

"You're being kinda quiet; you tired or something?" I leaned closer. He shook his head softly.

"I'm fine, I… I'll talk about it later." he rubbed the sleeve of his canvas jacket.

When we had arrived, Alfred, in every way but subtle, entered the bar.

"NAMASTE!" he shouted. Arthur nudged him as Matthew sighed. I spotted a few empty seats open at the bar counter. I ushered them to join me as I sat in one of the bar seats. Matthew helped Alfred read the menu as I gave Arthur the options.

"I'm not drinking," he claimed.

"You sure? Everyone else is getting one." my eyes grew guilt-trippingly big. Arthur sighed and rubbed his eyes frustratedly.

"Fine, but only one, you hear me!" he stated. I smirked and nodded. I read the menu.

"Oh, have I the drink for you." I snorted, "Do you remember how to say I want in French. I believe I taught you a couple of days ago."

"Je voudrais on its own I think."

"Incroyable! Now, when the bartender asks you what you want, reply with: Je veux deux verres de Bénédictine, s'il vous plaît." I instructed him. He nodded and repeated it in his head. The bartender strut to us, her pink deathhawk unbrushed and wild.

"Qu'est ce que je peux vous sevir?" she asked. Arthur repeated what I told him to say.

"Um, je veux deux verres de Bénédictine, uh, s'il vous plaît?" he said almost perfectly.

"Oui, une seconde." she replied. I was so glad she understood him and I was so proud that he was learning. Using what I taught him in a real-life situation. Arthur held his head down, trying to tack down his big, prideful smile. Alfred ordered some bourbon and Matthew got some whiskey.

"So, what did I order?" Arthur asked, finally succeeding in diluting his pride.

"Bénédictine, a French drink made in 1510 by the Bénédictine monk Don Bernardo Vincelli. It's made of 27 different herbs and the souls of past lovers. It's one of the world's most romantic drinks and there is said that only three people in the world know the complete recipe." I explained.

"So we're getting the cheap version?"

"Probably,"

"How alcoholic is it?"

"Very."

"Ugh…" he grumbled, dropping his head on the bar counter. I snickered and patted him roughly on the back.

"Relax, mon ami, you only ordered two drinks for the both of." I gestured with my words. He lifted his head up, resting on his chin.

"So, you guys auditioning to be in the play too, eh?" Matthew asked. I was taken aback slightly. I had no idea he was in theatre. To be completely honest, I had no idea he existed until this afternoon.

"Euh, oui." I replied.

"Voici vos boissons." the bartender said, passing me and Arthur two glasses of sparkling Bénédictine.

"Bon appétit." I winked. Arthur's eyes lit up.

"Hey, I've heard that before," he said excitedly, cautiously lifting his glass. I swirled mine around for a moment, a tiny little grin curling on my cheeks.

"Oui, but do you know what it means?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Uhhh…"

"Eat up, mothertruckers!" Alfred showed, raising his bourbon in the air.

"Actually, it means good appetite." Matthew corrected him, so antsy pulling his arm down. I chuckled, clicking my glass together with Arthur's. I took a sip and gasped satisfactorily.

"Oh, madame, on dirait que vous avez ajouté un peu plus d'épice." I told the bartender. She smirked and took another customer's order.

"What?" Arthur arched his eyebrow.

"I just said it was delicious." I lied, and he knew it too. He sighed, crossing his heart before taking a swig. His eyes shot open as he gagged. "A bit too strong for you, no?" He wiped off his mouth and coughed.

"No, I just wasn't expecting that." He cleared his throat. I ruffled his hair and laughed.

"Maybe you should drink a bit slower, mon ami." I snickered. He lifted his pinky and nodded. He took a smaller sip this time, trying to watch out for Alfred's jerky, sudden movements, and shouts.

"Wow, this stuff is outstanding! Much better when it's not charring my throat."

"I'm glad you think so." I, almost bragging, took a big drink from my glass. Arthur stared in disbelief. He tried to match me, drinking slightly faster. Jokes on him, I've been doing this for years. I finished the drink a few seconds later, placing my glass down gently as if it didn't matter.

"Did you just challenge me, wanker?" his eyes pierced into mine.

"Oh, non, I just-"

"Un de plus, s'il vous plait!" he banged his fist on the table. My eyes widened in shock. I thought he said just one drink, but I was not going to argue.

"Quoi?" I tilted my head. He whipped his head from the bartender back to me.

"You heard me, un de plus!" he repeated. Alfred and Matthew peaked over. The bartender just shrugged and slid him another glass. I slide her an extra €20. Arthur fearlessly downed it, knowing full well he'd regret it. And he did, throwing up in his mouth.

"C'était très stupide, mon ami." I nudged his glass away but he hastily snatched it back.

"Don't doubt me, you bloody frog!" he shouted firmly. I had to say, I was a bit scared.

"No, Arthur, you're going to hurt yourself, s'il vous plait, arrêt!" I was trying not to laugh; it was just kinda hard when he was clearly already tipsy. What a light-weight. He finished his glass and ordered another. "Derrière une, okay? Last one." I put a hand on his shoulder. I regretted my decision.

"Don't tell me what to do, frenchie!" he roared, Alfred gave me a knowing glance.

"Hé, I'm just trying to help, calmez-vous, calmez-vous!" I gave up trying not to laugh, falling into a snorting mess. I made an internal vow to stay sober for the sake of mine, and everyone else's health.

Arthur's button-up was unbuttoned and his sleeves were rolled up. His once neat, styled blonde hair was now sweat soaked and messy. His bloodshot eyes lazily peered around at his surroundings. He had finished yelling at me, now tired, or so I thought. Alfred had passed out and Matthew was crying for some reason.

"Mon ami?" I rubbed Arthur's back.

"Have I ever told you how bloody hot you are?" he shot back up in his seat.

"Quoi?" I asked, trying to hold down the corners of my lips.

"Yes, I know I've only known you for like, a week, but you're hot and nice and I love you." he fell into my lap. Poor thing is delusional. I turned on my phone and began recording, taking a few pictures along the way. "Your accent is sexy and I love when you speak in French."

"Alright, someone needs to go home and take a nap." I stroked his damp hair.

"No!" he suddenly sat up and grabbed my face. "I don't wanna sleep yet! You can't tell me what to do!" he stared at me silently for a second, outlining my face with his finger. "What's I love you in French?" I beamed at his question.

"Je t'aime."

"Okay now what's shut up?" he broke the mood.

"Tais-toi." I chuckled, him now squishing my cheeks.

"What about kiss me?"

"Embrasse moi."

"Okay, tais-toi et embrasse-moi!" he swung his head back excitedly like a child. I didn't even know who I was talking to. He leaned back forward and gave me a big kiss on the cheek. I quickly took a picture before he pulled away. "Encore, encore, la fin." and he fell back onto my lap, most likely unconscious. So I had to drive everyone home. I got Matthew to tell me where he and his brother lived, but I knew I couldn't get anything out of Arthur. I hoped Alfred wouldn't mind that I narrowed his keys and car, (even though it was a rental). I helped Matthew drag Alfred into their dorm, feeling sorry that he'd have to take care of that in the morning. So now it was just me and Arthur. He was lying down, taking up all the seats in the back. I didn't know where he lived so I just let him stay with me for the night. I carried him inside, his liquor-soaked breath against my bear collar bones. I struggled to unlock the door, but I managed. I delicately placed him on the couch, turning the lights off.

"Bonne nuit."

Arthur's groggy eyes slowly opened. He sprung up in shock, clutching his throbbing temples.

"Bonjour, sunshine." I greeted him, brewing two mugs of coffee, Pierre on my head.

"What am I doing here?!" he checked himself for clues.

"You passed out last night and I took you back here because I didn't know where you lived, regular or decaf?" I offered, showing off two different mugs.

"Regular's fine." he rubbed his aching head. He noticed his unbuttoned pants, in which he undid himself while drinking. "Wait, we didn't… you know…"

"Oh, bien sûr que non, no, no, ne t'inquiète pas." I reassured him, filling his mug.

"Just please tell me all that happened, I hate not knowing of my stupid actions." he sat down at the table as I handed him my 1# dad mug.

"Check your message, etc encore, ne t'inquiète pas, just the ones from me. I sent you the photos from last night." Pierre fluttered to my shoulder.

"Who saw?" he asked, turning on his phone.

"Well, Alfred blacked out and Matthew probably couldn't tell a cat from a tree through his drunken tears, so just me." I sat down with him. He absentmindedly took a sip of his coffee as he opened his messages. He dropped his cup, closing his eyes and groaning. He placed down his phone and rubbed his eyes in frustration.

"I'm such an idiot." he murmured.

"Oh, believe moi, mon ami, I've seen much worse." I consoled him.

"You didn't post like, tell anyone, right?"

"Bien sûr que non, I would never." I patted him on the shoulder. "How's your coffee?" I waved my own mug under my nose and inhaled, Pierre mimicking me.

"Fine, but tea is still better." he pulled his hair. "Why did you take the pictures anyway?" I didn't know what to say. I guess I really didn't know.

"I guess I just thought it was funny, no? Like, just cherish the memories. You know, the normal reasons. I brushed my hair behind my ear.

"Can you delete them, I don't want them floating around with a chance of getting leaked."

"Oui." I agreed, not actually agreeing. I thought they were cute. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. "You best be leaving," I told Arthur as I pushed myself to my feet, Pierre flapping in surprise.

"Why, who is it?" he picked his cup back up.

"Just a friend I have practice with." I opened the door, seeing Roderick, as expected. Arthur stood up to see who it was, seeming like he almost recognised him. We greeted each other with a kiss on each cheek, a formal greeting in France. Of course, where Arthur came from, this was not normal, I could tell by the uncomfortable look on his face.

"Well, cheerio then." he himself up and headed out the door. He didn't look at me, but it was nothing new.

"Au revoir!" I waved goodbye.

"Who was that?" Roderich asked.

"Oh, just a friend. Had a couple of drinks last night and he passed out. Took him back here because I didn't know where he lived." I explained.

"I hope that's all it was." he placed the lyric sheets on my counter delicately. "It seems that we also must come up with a theme for this performance."

"Like what?" I pulled a chair up, the back facing forward as I sat down. He cleared his throat as he passed me some papers.

"Almost like a skit, I was thinking that I would play the piano-"

"Whoa, crazy, never heard an idea like that before." I interred sardonically. Roderich was always playing an instrument, usually the piano or a violin. He gave me a cheeky glance and Pierre mimicked him.

"And you will be on top. Since it's about a dream, you will be trying to wake me up." he explained. I thought through it; seemed simple enough. "Now I suggest you look through your part." He gently sat beside me, keeping his distance. I flipped through the pages, finding that my part didn't start till after the chorus. Most of my lines are very short, and there wasn't many of them. I was about to get angry, but then I saw the music that went with it.

"Wow, that's gonna need some practice." I breathed, barely audible.

"Yes, now we should listen to the original." He began clicking on his phone, creating a soft beat with his nails: well taken care of and delicate, like the rest of him. The song began. Just like I thought, gentle and beautiful. It even made me forget that he chose it without me. He always meant well, he just preferred to take initiative. When my part, the girl, began, I was taken aback for a second. It was higher than I thought. I let the song finish before I made a comment. Pierre chirped along to the last chorus.

"Do I have to, euh, sing that high?" I chuckled to sound a bit more light-hearted.

"We can change it if possible." he stacked his sheets. He had so many; it must be for his piano as well. "Would you like to start out sight singing?" He glared at me with laxy purple eyes.

"Oui." I found my spot.

"Une, deux, trois,"

That afternoon, I decided to take a walk on campus. It was just so beautiful in the spring. I ran into Yao, who was looking quite stressed.

"Bonsoir, monsieur." I greeted him. Pierre tweeted as well.

"Sure, sure, whatever, have you seen Ivan anywhere?" he continuously searched around. "I'm gonna find that buffoon and give him a piece of my mind!"

"Calmez-vous, why is he missing?" I was gonna place a hand on his shoulder, but I thought it'd be best if I left It alone.

"I don't know, I just went into my room for a few minutes and when I walked out, he was gone!" he explained, pulling the front strands of his hair. I thought for a second. "He didn't say anything, we barely talked today, I don't understand!" he growled. Pierre nervously nuzzled into my hair.

"Encore, calmez-vous. I can help you look. Maybe he just wanted to see the flowers" I picked up a dandelion off the ground and Pierre fluttered over to it.

"No, Ivan is a cold-hearted idiot who I'm sure has killed someone." he swung an imaginary sword to elaborate. We walked a bit further down the campus while I tried to get more information out of Yao. "And he's got that blood-curdling stare, and he hangs out with- wait! He's probably out with that boy! That blonde one with the glasses. Arrrrug, I can't remember his name. Doesn't matter! He's an idiot and nothing matters and-" he was cut off. Ivan was sitting in the long grass, seeming to be making something. "There you are you idiot!" he stomped towards him. "Do you have any idea how-" Ivan placed a flower crown on his head.

"It was meant for someone else, but looks nice on you too." he beamed. "Glad to know you were worried for me. I'm alright, no worries, comrade." Yao was about to rip off the flower crown in rage but paused and sighed. He carefully lifted it off and studied it. It was a pleasant clash of daffodils, irises, and wisteria. His shoulders relaxed and his eyes closed.

"It's uh, it's… beautiful. I'm sure the one you're making this for will love it." his throat was tight. Ivan smiled.

"I'm glad." he embedded an extra band of wisteria along the sides. Yao placed the crown back in Ivan's hands.

"Okay, now get up and tell me why you left!" he demanded. Ivan stood up slowly, towering over Yao with tremendous height. Yao didn't let it intimidate him.

"I just wanted to see the flowers, that's all," Ivan replied, twirling a dandelion between his fingers. Yao shot his head in my direction as if I knew he'd say that.

"Bien… au revoir!" I waved goodbye. Pierre hovered above as if to wave as well. As I was leaving, I noticed Ivan staring at something near the forested area. I glanced to see what he was looking at, to find someone staring back from behind a tree. It was Alfred.


	5. Chapter 4

Monday, now more stressful than usual as auditions were Friday. I invited Matthew to sit with us in theatre as we practiced our monologues. A few rumors went around about which play it was going to be. None of them matched up. Arthur was still against Romeo and Juliet while that was the only play Alfred knew. Matthew just kept saying that he was fine with any part in any play. I guess I really didn't care either. At break I was waiting for them, staring at the two students I confronted a little while ago. The smaller, which I remember as Feliciano, was telling the taller one, Ludwig, all about the pasta he made the day before. Ludwig didn't talk nearly as much but seemed like a good listener. It was a beautiful scene. Fingers interlock with roses cheeks. Flowers blooming all around with vibrant glows, some fluttering through the morning breeze. Feliciano talking all about his day and the things that made him happy while Ludwig would look down at him once in a while to see if he was alright, smiling when he was. It made me yearn for the feeling of being in love again. Days of waking up knowing there is someone who loves you dearly; bonus points if they're by your side. Being able to vent about your feelings and wouldn't mind you bawling your eyes out. Touching their soft skin with their breath on yours. Laughing till midnight, careless of the time. I needed someone to love.

"Mon cœur est une vide vide." I sighed quietly to myself.

"What?" I immediately identified the voice as Arthur's.

"Oh, nothing, mon ami." I adjusted myself in my seat. I was surprised by the fact that Alfred and Matthew were not with him.

"Listen, about last weekend, I… I watched the videos you sent me." he ran his fingers through his hair frustratedly. "I'm really sorry."

"Non excuses, it was fine, really." I put my hand on his. "It was kinda cute actually," I smirked. He swiftly ripped his hand back and wiped it on his plaid sweater vest.

"Hey, dudes, check this out! They've got McDonald's in France!" Alfred shouted, appearing out of nowhere. "But to be honest, it kinda sucks." Matthew folłowed slowly behind him, already disappointed.

"Maybe because we don't pack our food with artificial growth hormones and preservatives like you guys. Just a suggestion." I sassed. Arthur tried to stifle a laugh.

"Shut up, Brit! Your food tastes like dirt!" Alfred snapped. Matthew kicked him under the table. I lifted Pierre to the table to let him walk around a bit. He began to chirp a familiar tune to fill the empty silence. I subconsciously sang the lyrics as eyes widened around the table.

"Some sort of window to your right; she goes left as you stay right…" I realised what I was singing. I must've listened to it more than I thought.

"Between the lines of fear and blame, you begin to wonder why you came…" Arthur softly continued. Before I could say anything, Alfred boisterously joined in.

"WHERE DID I GO WRONG! I LOST A FRIEND!" he shouted. Matthew kicked him again.

"How does your bird know that song?" Arthur stroked Pierre smoothly on the back.

"I guess he heard it while I was doing homework. That's when I usually play music." I recalled the possibility of the situation.

"Whatever it was, your bird is very talented." Matthew nuzzled into his polar bear plush.

"Yes, quite." Arthur sounded as if he was suspicious of me.

I found myself writing a poem. I was just caught up in a feeling that couldn't quite put into bold words. This wasn't the first time that I did something randomly artistic, but most of these events clumped around last week and this one. My closet was beginning to get cramped.

The duets were finally announced. Roderich, always ten steps ahead, was not listening to the instructor, searching through his music sheet and think over the arrangements. I told Arthur what the teacher said, although he was smart and already mostly understood it on his own. The instructor told us to choose our partners. I sighed as Arthur's head whipped in my direction.

"What?" he asked, knowing clear of my concern.

"I kinda already partnered up with Roderich." I pushed my hair back and closed my eyes. Arthur flashed his eyes over to Roderich with an unclear emotion. Roderich noticed him but turned the other cheek. "I'm sorry, I just… I would be your partner, but-"

"No, no, I understand." He stood up and searched around the room. "Alfred!"

"Hm?" Alfred looked up from his phone with an arched eyebrow. Arthur shot me a cold look and sauntered up to Alfred.

"You're my partner now!" he declared. He pointed dramatically as if to be expecting some sort of scene. I grumbled. Roderich sat next to me as we watched them.

"Alright cool, now we can sing in English!" Alfred chuckled. Arthur's face dropped after realising that he made a mistake. "Oh, yeah! And we can sing 'I Got You Babe'!"

"Wait, what? Al-"

"Yeah, and you'll be the girl because you're obviously the twink out of us." Alfred cackled. Arthur's face burned red in fury.

"You bloody wazzock, who gave you the right to say that?!" he stomped.

"Uh, the first amendment," Alfred smirked, curling his rouge strand.

"I'll ring you with a microphone wire you ass-headed grease-guzzler!"

Friday, the day we've all been waiting for. Everyone waited impatiently and anxiously for the professor and a couple of other smart looking elders. I was aware that I had been practicing for a very long time and I knew what I was doing, but I couldn't help but feel nervous. Arthur looked sheepish, but Matthew was too busy keeping Alfred from having a breakdown to get all meek. Finally, our professor walked on stage and cleared his throat. The room went dead silent as everyone's attention was drawn on him.

"Welcome everyone, I hope you guys have been patient, let's begin the auditions!" he announced. Some people cowered in their seats while their friends teased them to go up. Others enthusiastically volunteered while the rest, like me, just waited for whenever the time seemed right. It was Matthew's turn. Although he was brave for walked on stage without being asked, he still looked on edge. But that was to be expected in theatre. He deeply inhaled before the professor spoke. "Wait, are you one of my students?"

"Yes, I believe I am." He dropped his head; this was not the first time he heard that. Our professor flipped through a couple sheets of paper.

"What's your name?"

"Matthew, Matthew Williams," he pulled on his curl, slightly agitated.

"Alright then continue." He slipped his pen behind his ear. Matthew breathed in slowly.

"Be pleased that I shake off these names you give me: Antonio never yet was thief or pirate," he began. Antonio, a familiar name. A friend of mine along with another, more vexatious companion. Antonio and Gilbert were my best friends that I hung out with every summer, most likely the upcoming one as well. We were always somehow getting ourselves in trouble when we hung out together, getting ourselves the name 'The Bad Touch Trio'. That brung back memories. Gilbert usually led us into mischief, but I was always the first one to get in trouble. Antonio, on the other hand, was more innocent. He tried to find ways out of it and was usually the one to cover up our tracks. To sum us up, Gilbert would be the one passed out, wasted, I'd be the one with the drunk hookup, and Antonio would be the one to drive us home. I dazed out and remembered our crazy adventures as time passed. Before I knew it, Alfred was on stage.

"When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer: my next is 'Most fair Pyramus'," he pretended to wake up. I was surprised he understood the passage. Most likely Arthur helped him. "Heigh-ho!" he jumped. He was interesting to watch. So much energy and enthusiasm, perfect for the part he was performing. Arthur rolled his eyes, trying to cover up the fact that he was smiling. He was a stubborn one. Alfred ended his monologue with a dramatic pose. Some people clapped, causing others to as well. A big, beaming smile stretched across his face as he bowed, skipping off the stage shortly after. It was Arthur's turn, as he had already agreed with Alfred. He sighed and stood up, gingerly placing his paper down. He kept his pace controlled, his posture perfect. He coughed for the audience's attention, waiting for silence before he began.

"You do look, my son, in a moved sort, as if you were dismay'd: be cheerful, sir," It was like he was connecting with his past as his accent grew stronger. I immediately recognised it from The Tempest, what he said was his favourite. "And, like the baseless fabric vision, the cloud capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces," Although the mood of his monologue was quite cheerful, his tone was not. It was his grumpy, usual tone. Most likely, his part wouldn't be one of the comical ones. "And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk, to still beating mind." he ended with pulling his hair and shouting. He was more than acting. There was something he was using to fuel the anger like a memory. He didn't bow, he just gave the audience a mature, yet stern glare before walking off stage. It was my turn. I congratulated Arthur with a pat on the back as I strutted up. I winked at the crowd before I began.

"And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip; a beadle to a humorous sigh;" my dramatic voice echoed through the auditorium. "A critic, nay, a night-watch constable; a domineering pedant o'er the boy." I chose a passage from Berowne from Love's Labour's Lost. It was quite long, but it was one of my favorites. I made gestures and jerks, sauntering across the stage. Every emotion I expressed was exaggerated. I paid no attention to my professor or the other critics or I knew I'd get nervous. After a moment of silence, I finished with a bow. Alfred clapped, encouraging others to join in. I was flattered, especially by the fact that Arthur didn't hold back his smile this time. A few more people performed before the room went silent again. Students whispered to each other as the critics discussed quietly. The pews seemed more packed than usual like students decided to actually come. As voices began to rise, the slow clock began to hasten. Eventually, the professor hopped on stage with a big smile on his face.

"Alright, are you all ready to find out what play you just auditioned for?" he asked, wiggling his shoulders with his average, squirrelly behavior. Everyone's eyes were glued on him like a piece of felt on a staticky flannel. "It's… Romeo and Juliet!" Tons of boos and angry grumbles rose from the crowd, especially from Arthur. People complained with a few excited shouts mixed in. "I kid, I kid, I love messing with you guys, thespians are so dramatic! No, we're performing a Midsummer Night's Dream." People were a lot more excited about that, including Alfred who's monologue came from it. "We'll announce your parts online maybe tonight, or at least by tomorrow so keep up to date. Okay, I'm done now."

I refreshed repeatedly on my phone as Arthur impatiently tapped his finger. We had paused his French lesson to see if our roles had been posted. Alas, after an hour, no avail. I sighed, turning my phone off and facing Arthur's journal.

"Alright, So pronoun ar-" I was interrupted by the sound of vibrating against my granite island. A notification. _I shouldn't get too excited, it could just be an update or something._ "THE PLAY!" I shouted, completely ignoring myself. I snatched my phone and checked the screen. '_New post from Professor Martin - Title: Roles_'. I squealed the second I read it but immediately covered my mouth. I opened my phone quickly, not caring if Arthur saw my password, (what was he gonna do, text my mom my nudes, like he'd do that). Arthur was leaning in so close I could feel his anxious breath on my neck. I clicked the application and searched for the post. There it was, at the top of the page. We read through hastily, Arthur even grabbed my phone out of my hands. "Honhonhon, I'm playing Francis Flute. I wonder if he did that on purpose." I chuckled.

"Suits you well, now give me that!" he tore my phone from my hands and read it carefully. "I'm Egeus, who's that again? Wasn't he the dad?"

"Oui, he's an angry old man, suits you well." I mocked him. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, turning away with my phone. "So, what parts did Al and Matt get?" I peered over his shoulder, not drawing my attention to his klepto behavior.

"Matthew is Snout." he read. We took a second to puppy smile at each other, appreciating our professor's choice. "And Alfred is… Bottom." We were both silent for a second before bursting into laughter.

"I can't believe he really got the part. Oh, mon, it'll fit him so well!" I snorted, wiping a hysterical tear from my waterline with my palm. "I can't believe I guessed correctly."

"It's even better because you have to kiss him!" Arthur almost choked on his own breath, not noticing himself slowly slipping out of balance on his bar seat. I reached for him the second he started flailing his arms around in order to regain his physical equilibrium with the boundless leather chair. We both ended up falling, landing on our backs with my arms around his shoulders. We were both too lost in our laughter to notice our intertwined legs and the throbbing bruises on the back of our heads. Our chuckles diluted with time, our bodies lying flat on the braided carpet. I tried to meet eyes with him to regain focus, but he was no good at that. He sat up quickly and rubbed his aching skull.

"We sure took quite a fall there, didn't we?" I snickered, checking for any loose parts.

"Hey, yeah," he paused as if just realising the situation. "You alright?" I laid my head into his shoulder for only a second to help myself back on my feet.

"Oh, je suis bien, mon ami." I held his hand to lift him up as well. "I think we've gotten a little slap-happy, it's getting pretty late." I glanced at the clock, nearly awestruck. "Oh, mon, I think you should be leaving!" I began tidying up my supplies. Arthur silently nodded. "Au revoir,"

"Wait," he grazed his finger along the rim of the bar seat, not looking up. "Maybe I could just stay the night if that okay with you."

"Oh, mais oui, mon ami! I've got nothing going on this weekend." I clapped my hands in excitement. Arthur appeared pleased but a little surprised, but I would be too. "Shouldn't you at least go back and get your clothes.

"No, I can sleep with what I have on." He peered down at his slacks, suspenders, and brown blazer. He, in fact, could not sleep in what he had on. I stared at him doubtfully for second before disappearing into my room. I came back wearing pajamas with the French flag spangled all over the patches to the hems. I kept the top half of the buttons unbuttoned on my shirt. I tossed Arthur an old t-shirt and a pair of old track pants that were just collecting dust. He raised an eyebrow as if he needed an explanation, but I just nodded and pointed to the bathroom. As he was changing, I set a few blankets on the couch and a sleeping bag in front of it. Of course, as he is my guest, I'd get the floor. It was a strange feeling getting that sleeping bag out again, but an even stranger one overtook it. I hadn't had an 'innocent sleepover' in a very long time, at least not since middle school. I wasn't sure what we'd do. Arthur left the bathroom, looking a little uneasy wearing someone else's clothes. I was surprised, to say the least. He wasn't as small as I thought. His sweaters and jackets must've covered his strangely taut muscles. I almost felt put to shame (but not by much, honhonhon). The t-shirt was tighter around his torso than I had expected but his pants seem to fit just fine.

"Take a seat." I gestured to the couch. He hesitated but obeyed. I stared at his arms the whole time, probably longer than I should've. I so badly wanted him to flex. I turned on the tele to a boring channel. "So, what do you plan on doing this summer?"

"I'm going home, back to Britain." He replied blankly. The reminder stung me like a bee; I forgot about that part. "My father would like to see me as soon as the school year is over." He bit his lip and twiddled with his thumbs. There was something sensitive about the subject, I wanted to know more.

"Your father, hm? Tell me more about your family." I rested my arms on the couch cushion as I leaned in. He didn't say anything as he put his head down, thinking.

"One second." he slipped off the couch, snatched his phone, and sat back down. I found something. Trying not to appear too excited, I hopped next to next with enough distance to keep him from wincing. He covered his phone lazily with his hand as he scrolled through his gallery. I secretly peered over, but it was nothing interesting. A couple of pictures of rabbits, stale food, and random pictures of paper, people, and other boring screenshots. But a few things caught my eye. He had a couple of numbers screenshotted, such as 911 and Suicide Hotline. My heart leaped in my chest from shock. I wanted to say something but my lips were sealed shut. He clicked on a picture and showed it to me. There were five people standing in a field with gray skies and sage grass. One of them was Arthur. He wore a big, crooked, and toothy smile that raised his chubby pink cheeks. His hair was messy and his clothes were covered in dirt and grass stains. The picture was obviously taken years ago. There were three other boys who looked about his age, but taller. All rowdy tall gingers. They had his face but not his attitude. One had their arm around another's neck, one ruffling Arthur's hair, and the last pulling the first one's ear. The last was a tiny blonde toddler that Arthur held by the hands. He remarkably resembled him.

"Who are they?" I tilted my head.

"My brothers, I'm the one in the middle and the one I'm holding up is… Peter." That name annoyed him. "He doesn't live with us anymore. He stays with the Oxenstiernas." he swiped to show two more blonde people, the shorter one holding Peter in his arms. The taller one stared blankly into the camera.

"Aw, that's cute, they look so happy." my eyes were set on the shorter ones thankful and cheerful expression.

"Oh' they were, Tino and Berwald were ecstatic. They probably still are, really, especially Tino." He swiped back to the picture of this brothers. "The other three are Allistor, Seamas, and Dylan. They're all a bunch of deranged drunk fools."

"Who's that one?" I pointed to the tallest. His hair was a deep red and his eyebrows were as think as Arthur's. He was just as handsome too.

"That's Allistor, the worst of them all." he glanced at his arms. If I had stopped focusing on his muscles for a second I'd notice the bruises and scratches that bound the light skin which barely saw the light of day. It now made sense why he wore so much during the warm French spring.

"Did he make those?" I brushed my fingers sonantly over the scars, trying my best not to hurt him. I recalled all the times I violently gripped his arms or bumped into him carelessly.

"Not all of them." he rubbed his biceps reminiscently, thinking to himself.

"Do they hurt?"

"Not anymore," his shoulders dropped. We didn't speak for a minute, the only sound in the room coming from the tele. Arthur lifted his phone to continue, but I interrupted him with a soft hug. He let a sharp gasp slip from his lungs, tensing up his limbs. I didn't let go until he relaxed. "It's quite alright. I'm perfectly fine." He awkwardly patted me on the back. I backed away and he shivered for a second. "Well, anyway, this is my bunny." He showed me a picture of a white and fluffy rabbit. Its pelt was so pale that it was nearly mint.

"Oh, what's its name?"

"Lapeen,"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Lapeen, you should know, it's the French word for rabbit."

"You mean lapin?" I basically silenced him. His face turned red as he gawked at me.

"La… pin…" he breathed. I nodded. "It's pronounced like… la-pon…" I nodded again, now smiling. "You mean to tell me, that all this time… BLOODY HELL, YOUR LANGUAGE IS IDIOTIC!" He shot to his feet. I took his hand to calm him. He sighed and dropped his head. "Is it really lapin?"

"Oui,"

"Ugh,"


End file.
